


Archaeology

by dettiot



Series: Core Curriculum [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 11:59:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3895537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dettiot/pseuds/dettiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After meeting at a frat party, having incredibly hot sex, Felicity walked out on Oliver.  Now he can’t get her out of his head.  So he does some digging to find her.   Follow-up to Women's Studies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Archaeology

**Author's Note:**

> When I say that everyone seemed to want a sequel to Women’s Studies, I mean EVERYONE. Which was hugely flattering! And also hard, because there were so many different directions I could go in. So my choice was to not choose. This is the first of four follow-ups to Women’s Studies, exploring different ways that Oliver and Felicity’s next meeting could happen. I hope you enjoy this concept, and this particular story! Thanks to mersayseh, machaswicket and youguysimserious for the cheerleading and first reading.

When he woke up alone, Oliver knew he shouldn’t be surprised. Felicity had made it clear that she was leaving--that he couldn’t keep her in his room with her. She had controlled the situation, set all the boundaries, made her own decisions. 

She was different from any other woman he had ever met. And he wanted her more than any other woman. Even after last night and this morning, it wasn’t enough. In no fucking way was one night enough with her. 

It was crazy, but desire like that . . . you didn’t walk away so easily. 

So he just had to find her. How hard could it be to find a Goth girl named Felicity in Boston? Especially when you were Oliver Queen and had a nice, big trust fund at your disposal?

Apparently, it was harder than shit. Because after two days of searching on his own, he had to blow off his planned return to Starling City and find a hotel, because he hadn’t found her yet. 

When he called Tommy, his best friend had thought he was crazy, on multiple levels.

“Dude, just hire a private investigator and let them handle it.”

“And have my dad see the bill and ask what the fuck I need a detective for? Kinda don’t want to find out if that’s what will make him cut me off, Tommy,” Oliver had retorted.

“Like he would do that, as long as your mom is around,” Tommy snorted. “C’mon, man, just move on. Do you know how much fun you’re missing out on, staying in ye olde Beantown? I got the best idea: let’s rent out Rockets Stadium and hire models to play strip kickball with.” 

A few days ago, Ollie would have thought this was the best plan ever. He would have thoroughly enjoyed the casting call, let alone the actual strip kickball. But now . . . Oliver didn’t think the idea had that much appeal. 

“I know, Tommy, but . . . I just wanna see if I can find her,” Oliver said slowly. There was a silence from the other end of the phone--a very heavy one--and Oliver did his best impersonation of himself from before Felicity. “She was a super-hot lay. You shoulda heard the things she said, Tommy. I’ve never had a chick talk that filthy to me.”

“Y’know, my grandfather always said ‘never dip your pen in the same well twice’ and that’s served me well.” 

“Both your grandfathers died before you were born, you asshole,” Oliver said. “And we both know you want me to come home because you miss being my wingman.” 

Tommy snorted again. “I believe _you_ are _my_ fucking wingman, Queen. Okay, it’s your funeral. Because staying in Boston is like being buried alive.” 

Feeling relieved, Oliver hung up the phone and got back to pounding the pavement--when he really wanted to be pounding Felicity, sliding deep inside her tight body, feeling her muscles clench around him, hearing her tell him how big he was, how she wanted him to make her scream . . . 

With a wince, Oliver adjusted his jeans a little, wishing he had worn something looser like shorts. But after Felicity had slammed his shorts, he found himself agreeing with her that they were pretty ugly.

He didn’t know what was driving him. Why he had to find her. He knew he was getting pretty close to crossing the line into full-on stalker behavior. Which was crazy, because he was Oliver fucking Queen. He didn’t need to go after a girl--they came after him.

Case in point: at a tutoring center where Felicity had volunteered, he ‘charmed’ a pretty brunette into telling him Felicity’s last name. When she dragged him into a broom closet, Oliver let her. Had even kissed her, letting his hands touch her back and hips. 

But after a few minutes . . . he realized he felt nothing. She was definitely pretty and kissed really well, but she was short like Felicity. Her hair was a long, silky curtain, but it wasn’t as dark as Felicity’s. 

The longer he kissed her, the less he wanted her. So even though she seemed very willing, Oliver pulled back, gave her a smile, and got out of there.

Never before had he turned down sex with a willing participant. He didn’t get what was going on, but maybe if he just found her, he could figure it out. Have one more night together and really get her out of his system, out of his mind. 

And now that he knew she was Felicity Smoak, MIT class of ‘09 . . . well, he could get a lot farther. 

It took another few days, and involved ‘charming’ a MIT res life assistant with purple hair, but tonight, he was finally going to see Felicity again. Because he knew what residence hall at MIT she was staying in this summer, and now he was on his way there.

If the fucking Red Sox fans would let his car get through. 

Oliver drummed his fingers against the steering wheel of his Porsche, watching as the fans streamed out of Fenway and crossed in front of his car. A few people glanced at him and slowed down--one woman in a Sox cap did a full-on double-take and nearly walked into the person in front of her--but none of them hurried along, so the light had gone from red to green and then to yellow by the time he was able to get through the intersection. He floored the accelerator and pulled away with a squeal of tires, more than ready to find Felicity and make her give him another night. 

That was all he wanted: another night. Just to scratch this itch and move on. 

XXX

“Hey, baby, how ‘bout I get you a refill?” 

With a sigh, Felicity looked up from her EE text and met the eyes of her latest ‘admirer’. Backwards baseball cap, t-shirt, those stupid-ass cargo shorts that all guys seemed to wear in the summer, and Topsiders with no socks. The preppy frat boy, in all his glory. 

“No, thanks,” she said, giving him a tight smile. 

“Awww, c’mon, don’t be like that--I think I deserve a real smile.” He gave her a cocky smirk of a grin, one that made her totally lose her temper in a very atypical way. 

“Listen, asshole,” Felicity said, looking up at him, “all I owed you was a polite response. You got it, but if you think you deserve more, go find someone else to harass.” 

The guy’s smirk twisted into a snarl. “Fine then, bitch.” And like that, he turned on his heel (amazingly without losing his Topsider) and stalked away. 

Sighing again, Felicity bent over her textbook. She had made so many great plans for these two weeks . . . and here she was, studying at ten-thirty in a coffee shop. Her new roommate kept all these weird hours, going to bed at nine p.m. and getting up at five a.m. to exercise and do other healthy things. And she liked sunshine--which Felicity liked, too, but not as much as Cammy did. So she had resorted to steering a wide berth of her room, and with her plans already scotched, she might as well get a jump on the work for her summer classes. 

Yet more often than not, she found herself staring off into space. Not reading, not planning new algorithms or developing code. Just . . . thinking. 

Remembering. 

A bedroom in a frat house, blue eyes that searched her face for all her secrets, hands that seemed made to touch her. Sex that didn’t feel like just sex. Sneaking away from him and eating chocolate chip pancakes and drinking coffee, trying to act like it had just been another night.

But now it was nearly a week later, and she was still thinking about Oliver. And that was pointless and a waste of time and a distraction. But she couldn’t stop. 

Because the dumb, pretty frat boy that she thought he was at first glance turned out to be so much more. He was insightful, determined, focused, willing to give up control . . . so many things she hadn’t been prepared for. Things that she couldn’t stop thinking about. 

This wasn’t like her. She wasn’t some romantic who thought sex meant a guy loved you or even cared about you. Felicity had enjoyed her previous one-night stands and had never walked away with fuzzy feelings. Not like with Oliver. 

Damn it, even his _name_ made her stomach flutter. Before she thought about his eyes or his mouth, his arms or his abs. Combined with what she knew about him, she couldn’t help wondering. Wondering if maybe there was something there, something that they could have explored, if she hadn’t left him while he was sleeping. 

Grimacing, Felicity ran a hand over her face and slammed her textbook shut. This was getting her nowhere. She couldn’t study and she was getting jittery from the caffeine. Clearly, it was time to stop spending her days in coffeehouses and instead, she should go back to her original plans for her break. So what if her roommate was asleep by the time Felicity really got going? She would be considerate and play her music through headphones, keep only one light on while she hacked or read, and everything would be good. 

Felicity gathered her things and stomped out of the coffeehouse, her boots thudding against the ground. Because she was pissed with herself. Why was she so affected by this guy? She didn’t know why. And Felicity hated mysteries. Especially when they concerned her feelings. She didn’t believe in denial or stupid justifications. If she wanted something, she worked and got it. What was the point in acting like she didn’t? 

But that was before she thought she would only want one night with Oliver. Before she walked out of his room while wanting to stay. 

What the fuck was wrong with her? She didn’t know. And she was starting to think this problem would require mint chip ice cream to figure out. 

So with a detour to the minimart to get her ice cream, Felicity walked back to her dorm, still wrestling with just what she was going to do about this. Because sure, she knew Oliver was a member of BU’s chapter of PiKA and it couldn’t be that hard to figure out what his last name was, his major, all the things she wanted to know . . . 

She had left, though. Had just walked out. What were the chances he would want to see her? Just because that night seemed to mean more to her with each passing day--it didn’t mean the same applied to Oliver.

That was what she thought, at least, until she turned into her hallway and saw Oliver sitting by the door to her room.

Asleep.

XXX

It figured he had gotten all the way to Felicity’s room, only for her not to be there. Something that her roommate told him in a really snippy tone, after telling Oliver that he had woken her up.

The fuck? It wasn’t even ten yet!

“Felicity will be back sometime. Just wait and she’ll show up,” the roommate said grumpily, closing the door in his face before he could even ask if she had Felicity’s number. 

With a groan, Oliver ran his hands through his hair. Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. She had a roommate! How the hell was anything gonna happen? That is, if she even came home tonight. Maybe she had gone to another frat party, found another guy--

The thought made his stomach tighten and his breath seize in his chest. Because she could have done that. He could be the one who was acting like some crazy stalker, showing up at her dorm and wanting to see her, when she wanted nothing to do with him. He should leave. Go before she even knew he had been here. 

But when he tried to move, his feet wouldn’t let him. It was like they were planted on the dingy brown carpet. And he admitted to himself that he couldn’t leave. Not without seeing her. Not without making sure that she wasn’t interested. And she probably wouldn’t. With all he had to do to track her down, it was pretty clear that Felicity didn’t want to be found.

Yet every time that night, when he had looked into her eyes, he had sensed she was holding back something. A part of herself that she was scared of sharing. And it had called to something in him, something he didn’t even know he had, that wanted to protect her and keep her safe. Something kinda like how he felt towards Thea, but very very different. Because he didn’t feel about Felicity like he felt about his sister.

Slumping down, he leaned back against the wall and took a few long breaths. God, he was tired. Tired of thinking, tired of chasing after something that he didn’t get. 

The dorm was quiet since it was summer. So quiet that Oliver found his eyelids drooping, even though it was early. So before he knew it, he fell asleep.

And then a hand was shaking his shoulder and he heard Felicity. “Oliver, what the hell?!?” 

“Huh, yeah?” he asked blearily, blinking at her. He always was confused if someone woke him up suddenly, and the fact that he had fallen asleep in the first place wasn’t exactly starting this off well. 

Beyond the fact that he had showed up at her dorm room when she hadn’t told him where she lived. Something she was well-aware of, judging by her face. 

“How did you know where I live?” she asked him, her voice confused and wary. Now that he was awake, she had taken her hand off his shoulder and stepped back, almost to the point where her back was against the wall on the other side of the hallway. 

Oliver rubbed a hand over his face and pushed himself to his feet. “I asked a girl in the housing office, after I talked to another girl and found out your last name.” 

Her face closed off and Oliver spoke quickly. “Which sounds bad, I know, and I’ve never done this before, I just really needed to find you.” 

“I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure there are easier ways of getting laid, Oliver,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. 

There’s something in her voice that reminded him of how she was when they first met, when she was pissed at him and didn’t want anything to do with him. But underneath that . . . it was almost like she was _scared_. Of him. And that pissed him off. Because he was the one who found her, he was the one who tracked her down, he was the one putting himself on the line here!

So he stepped towards her, his hands on his hips. “I coulda slept with either of those girls. But I didn’t.” 

“What do you want, a medal?” she sniped, glaring up at him. “You had social interactions with two women and didn’t sleep with either of them? News flash, Oliver, not every woman is dying to have sex with you.” 

“Jealous?” he fired back, feeling his jaw clench. 

Felicity’s eyes snapped. “Hardly!”

“Good,” he said, leaning in towards her. “Because you’d be wasting your time.” 

“Why, like how you’re wasting yours?” The anger, the strength in her words, floored him. Because she sounded like she meant it. “You shouldn’t have come looking for me. You crossed a line, Oliver.”

Oliver swallowed. “I know.” 

“What?” she said, her eyes going wide. 

“I shouldn’t have come looking for you. I know that,” Oliver said, searching her face. “But . . . but I had to. Maybe you don’t wanna hear this, Felicity, but just--gimme a minute and then I’ll go if you want me to. But--but you being jealous would be wasting your time, because . . . there’s no reason for you to be.” 

Her forehead was creased like she was confused. “Oliver?”

Taking a deep breath, he locked his eyes on her. “I want more than just one night with you. I--I want more, Felicity.”

XXX

More? 

He wanted more? 

So he showed up at her dorm room, fell asleep waiting for her, and then got mad at her? 

Felicity had never felt like she understood men less than she did right now.

Although her lack of knowledge of the male species might be fighting for first place with her lack of insight into herself. Because it was so _wrong_ that she had felt her heart squeeze in her chest when she had seen him, sleeping outside her door.

Ever since that lacrosse player during fall semester, she had been more wary of guys who trampled the boundaries she set. She had learned the hard way that you had to be up-front with men--you had to tell them exactly what you wanted, what you were willing to accept, and be ready to stand by your word. That was where she had gone wrong with the lacrosse player, and she wasn’t going to let that happen to her again. 

That was why she had told Oliver what she wanted from him. That was why she kept saying it was just sex. And that was why she hadn’t tried to find him. Because it wouldn’t be standing by her word. 

But . . . damn it. She had never felt so connected to someone like she had with Oliver--like she still did, because even now she could feel the string that tied her to him and him to her. She wanted more, too, and he had owned up to his behavior being wrong, and he was looking at her with the confusion of sleep still in his eyes and God, he was so gorgeous . . . 

No. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t give in, couldn’t reward him for his stalker-like persistence, couldn’t--

Oh. She was kissing him. 

Somehow, her body had taken over while her mind was locked up, stepping towards Oliver and pulling him down to her. As soon as their lips connected, though, it was like her brain got jump started and she froze, ready to pull away. 

But then she didn’t. She kept kissing him, as Oliver wrapped his arms around her tightly and kissed her back.

Felicity sucked on his lower lip, one of her hands going into his hair. He tasted so amazing, and his tongue was doing ridiculously perfect things, sliding into her mouth and stroking her tongue and this felt too good to be true . . .

“Wait.” She pulled her lips away from his with a wet-sounding pop. “Wait, just a second, Oliver--” 

He nodded, breathing hard but not loosening his arms. “Right. Breathing.” 

“No--I’m not stopping for air, although, now that you mention it, air is good,” she said, taking in a few deep breaths. 

His eyes were confused, not from sleep anymore, when he looked at her. “Then why did you stop?” 

“Because there’s one thing we need to get clear,” she said, looking up at Oliver. “Just because we’re doing . . . this,” she paused, gesturing between them, “it doesn’t mean I’m your always-available booty call. No showing up when you want sex.” 

She was drawing the line hard. In permanent marker, very deep in the sand, and she was really mixing metaphors but she just--she had to do this. She needed to keep this defined. So that neither of them got the wrong idea.

To her surprise, Oliver doesn’t seem pissed off. He actually seemed . . . amused?

“I would have called first, but you didn’t give me your number,” he said, brushing his nose against hers. “And I will call in the future. Always. Now can I kiss you?” 

With anyone else, she would think he was just saying what she wanted to hear in order to get what he wanted. But for some reason, she thought Oliver meant it. So she nodded and he leaned in, pressing his lips against hers. 

This kind of thing shouldn’t be possible. It definitely shouldn’t be happening to her. But it was, and Felicity wasn’t going to stop it. 

Oliver’s mouth was warm and greedy against hers. If she thought he was a good kisser before, now he had moved into sole possession of best kisser. Because he was really, really into it. Even more than last time. 

“Yes,” she hissed when he started kissing along her jaw and down her neck. “God, you make me so hot . . . Oliver . . .” 

“You say my name like nobody else does,” he said, his eyes meeting hers for a long moment before he slid his hands underneath her, squeezing her ass hard as he sucked on her earlobe. 

“Oliver,” she groaned, feeling flustered that she gave him what he wanted so easily, but also feeling lighter. Like everything made sense again, in some weird unexpected way. “Don’t stop.”

He sucked harder on her ear as he lifted her off her feet and pressed her back against the wall, her toes dangling a few inches off the floor. A flutter of fear went through her, even as her core tightened and she felt her panties getting soaked. Because she was vulnerable in this position. 

But his hands were holding her so tightly, his mouth felt so good as he moved to her neck and sucked on her skin, and she was tired of pretending she didn’t want him again. 

So Felicity moved one of her hands from his shoulder to his jaw, pulling his mouth to hers. 

XXX

Sometimes, memories could be as good as the real thing. But when Felicity kissed him, her fingers rubbing against his skin, Oliver knew that even if they did this a thousand times, the memories would never compare to the reality of Felicity. 

God, she was so fucking amazing. Hot and smart and strong, and that should scare him off, make him go find an easier girl to fuck, but it didn’t. He didn’t want anyone else. 

And _that_ was a really scary thought, but Oliver shoved it aside and rocked his hips against her, drawing a moan from her. 

“Oh, fuck, I want you,” she said against his lips. One of her hands trailed from his face down his chest and Oliver thought he was going to explode. Then she tensed and groaned. “My roommate.” 

“Yeah, I met her,” Oliver said, pressing a few kisses to her chin and the underside of her jaw before looking at her. “Real winner there.” 

Felicity rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything, which made Oliver think she agreed with him. He couldn’t help grinning at her and kissing her again. 

“We--we can go to my hotel--” Oliver offered, even as he sucked on her neck. 

“Too far away,” Felicity sighed. “Just--gimme a second--are you gonna drop me?”

His arms were starting to shake a little from the effort of holding her up--she might weigh next to nothing, but he had been skipping the gym in order to find her--and Felicity nipped at his lower lip. “Need a break?” she asked sweetly. 

With a grimace, he let her drop back to her feet. “It looks so easy in the movies.” 

“Awww, poor baby’s not Superman,” she said, grinning up at him and taking his hand. “C’mon.” 

His dick was throbbing, he was so hard, and she was laughing at him and he didn’t even give a fuck. Because after days of looking for her, feeling lost and confused, he didn’t feel like that anymore. It all felt . . . right. 

Her hand was tight on his as she pulled him into some kind of doorless closet at the end of the hall. There was a window and an ancient-looking payphone bolted against one side of the cubicle and a shelf running along the other two sides. 

“Perfect,” he muttered as he lifted her up onto the shelf and kissed her hungrily. 

She smiled as he kissed her, which shouldn’t be a thing and shouldn’t feel so good, but it was and it did. “It’ll be even better when your shirt is off.”

Pulling back, Oliver yanked his polo shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor, then went back to kissing her. It was so addictive to feel her lips move against his own, to taste her and feel her react. 

“Mmmmm,” she moaned, her hands stroking over his pecs and then slowly dropping down to his abs. Her fingers smoothed over the dents between each muscle, setting him on fire. 

“Do we have to be quiet?” he asked, nipping along her jaw and hearing her gasp.

“I don’t care,” she said, her voice throaty.

Her words went straight to his cock and he gripped her hips tightly. “Talk to me, Felicity,” he whispered in her ear. Wanting to hear what she would say, wanting her to tell him what to do. Wanting to make her scream again. 

Because she was hot as fuck and he wanted to make this night even better than their first time together, so that they could keep doing this. And maybe then, after a few more nights, he would know why she had such a hold on him.

This could be more than sex, he knew. But he thought she wasn’t ready for that. In doing his research, he had discovered that Felicity Smoak was barely eighteen, which should have freaked him out. But it didn’t. It had made him feel . . . protective. Like he wanted to keep her safe. But not like how he felt about anyone else in his life, not like with Laurel or Thea or anyone. 

He wanted to make Felicity shine. Which was so fucking stupid, because she was brighter than the sun already and made him want to burn up. Especially when she fucking whimpered and pulled him in closer.

XXX

It would totally tip her hand by whimpering. But hearing Oliver whisper, in a low, deep voice, “Talk to me, Felicity” . . . how could she not whimper? Or come just from the sound of his voice in her ear? 

She had to be the strong one here. 

“Touch me,” she said, wrapping one arm around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. She ran her hand down his arm--his bicep was _so_ firm--and pulled his hand up to cover her breast. Arching her back, she pushed herself against his hand and Oliver immediately pulled down her tank top. His grin was wide and bright in the dimly-lit cubicle when he saw she wasn’t wearing a bra. 

And then he was cupping her breast, rubbing his palm against her nipple, and-- “Oh, fuck, yes,” she groaned. They had barely done anything and she was so damn ready for him. 

Oliver kept kissing her as he stroked and massaged her breast. His other hand fumbled with the hem of her top and pulled it up, his fingers caressing her stomach and making her flesh tremble. 

“Felicity,” he muttered against her mouth before he pulled back and lifted her top over her head. His eyes dropped to her chest, roaming over her like a physical touch, and Felicity felt her nipples get even harder. 

The way his gaze lingered, though . . . it made her stomach flip. So she leaned back on her hands, pushing her chest out. “Y’know what I really liked last time?” she said, hoping she sounded seductive instead of nostalgic. “The way you sucked on my tits. That was A+, Oliver.” 

“Let’s see if it’s as good as you remember,” he said, leaning down to take one of her nipples in his mouth. 

Arrogant cocky bastard, she thought dimly. Because it was better than she remembered, and they both knew that, and God, when she got her hands on him--

But since her hands were busy holding herself up, she made do with her legs, wrapping them around his hips and drawing him in against her. 

He swirled his tongue around her nipple, pulling most of her breast into his mouth and sucking in slow, soft pulses. It was nowhere near enough, and he must have sensed that, because one of his hands was on her back, holding her in place as he leaned her back. With his other arm, he held himself above her by bracing his forearm on the wall. The change in position let him suck harder on her breast, his teeth grazing her skin and sending jolts of electricity through her. 

The best part, though, was that his move brought their groins closer, and Felicity arched her hips. Her center rubbed against his cock and she cried out softly, feeling hot and shivery all of a sudden. “Oh, you are so hard . . .”

His hips jerked against her, pressing for a split-second in just the right spot, and Felicity bit down hard on her lower lip. “Fuck,” they both said in near-unison, and Oliver looked at her with a tight smile. 

“We gotta move this along. Round two at my hotel,” he said, his hands going to the waistband of her pants. 

If she was able to think, she would remember that was the second time Oliver had mentioned a hotel, and she would ask him why he wasn’t still at the frat house. But Felicity was most definitely not able to think. Her brain was totally silent, like it only got after sex, and they hadn’t even gotten each other’s pants off yet. 

A situation that was getting fixed right the fuck now. 

Her hands felt clumsy as she worked the button of his jeans. When her fingers brushed over his cock as she drew down the zipper, Oliver hissed, his hands tightening in the fabric of her pants. 

And even though she felt like a bomb waiting to go off, she had to stop and kiss him. Because he was so different from any other guy she had been with and she--she didn’t know why that affected her so much. 

Felicity pushed his jeans and boxers down and that made Oliver tug off her last remaining clothes. She lifted her hips, letting him strip her. And now they were both naked and Oliver was rolling a condom over his cock, staring into her eyes and--and his eyes were doing something to her, making her shake, and she said, not sounding like herself at all, “I need you inside me.” 

Because she sounded desperate and needy, like she was _pleading_ with him instead of telling him. 

“Yes,” he muttered, lining himself up and sliding into her. 

If her brain was working, she would feel a little grossed out by how her bare ass was resting on a wooden shelf that probably hadn’t been cleaned since the Reagan administration. She would be worrying about how this was definitely something that could get her kicked out of MIT, and wouldn’t her mother just love that? And she certainly would be wondering how this wasn’t like a repeat of last time, but something brand-new and even more amazing and a little bit terrifying in all the newness. 

But really, all Felicity could think about was how perfect Oliver’s cock felt inside her. 

XXX

The moment he was inside her, Oliver pressed his face against her neck and groaned loudly. Because _fuck_. 

This was what sex should feel like, he realized. No--this must be what making love felt like. This weird sense of connection, feeling like he wasn’t just himself but part of something more. 

Felicity’s small hands gripped his arms as she panted. “Oliver,” she said, her voice still breathy and all-but-begging, like when she said she needed him inside of her. 

And that was another reason for him to groan. Because Felicity wasn’t the type to beg, and he didn’t know how they had gotten like this, but . . . but he was damned if he wasn’t going to make her feel as good as he could. He was going to give her exactly what she needed, even if she didn’t tell him what that was. He was going to figure it out. 

Slowly, he began rocking against her. Watching her face, focusing on her. When her breath hitched, he knew that was something she liked, so he did it again. He kissed her softly, slowly, feeling her hands flex against his biceps. All that mattered was this. Her. 

After a few thrusts, Felicity seemed to sense things were different. A small crinkle appeared between her eyes as she looked at him and her hands moved from his arms to wrap around his neck. Oliver didn’t break eye contact with her as he kept moving, his hands sliding over her back. 

There were a million questions in her eyes and still that same something that she was trying to hide. But there was also something else. Like she was really seeing him for the first time. Like she was the first person to ever see _him_. 

It was hard not to look away. To not feel embarrassed or nervous. But more than that . . . it felt good. Even better than the amazing feeling of being inside her, of feeling her muscles flutter around his cock and knowing they were both working to make this good for each other.

When Felicity came, it was a surprise. Her eyes went wide and a cry fell from her lips, the only sound either of them had made since she whispered his name. And as soon as he felt her tighten around him, Oliver was exploding, feeling his body jerk against hers. Her arms held on to him, not letting go, and he slumped against her, closing his eyes.

As he came back to himself, Oliver realized Felicity was pressing kisses to his neck and shoulder, while her hands were stroking his back. And it felt so good that he didn’t want to move. 

“Mmmm,” he murmured, brushing his nose against her cheek.

She laughed a little against his neck. “I did not expect you to be all cuddly.” 

“Normally I’m not,” he said, lifting his head to look at her. To take in her reddened lips, her flushed cheeks, and messy hair. Her eyes were bright and alive, full of satisfaction, and knowing that he had done that made him feel like something special. 

“Me, neither,” Felicity said softly, her hands coming to rest on his lower back. Her face grew serious and she pursed her lips. “Oliver, what are we doing here?” 

This was when he would be flippant, with any other girl. _Preparing for round two_. _Remembering how hard you came_. Something like that. But flippant wouldn’t work with Felicity. So he just smiled at her a little and kissed the tip of her nose. “Spending time together.”

“And what does that mean, exactly?” 

It was like she wanted to push him. Push him away. He wasn’t sure why, but after all it took to find her--and after tonight--he wasn’t going to let her. No, he was going to hang on to her, at least for a little while. It was just a matter of finding the right approach. The way that would let them have this, and whatever else she was willing to give him, without scaring her off. 

In this moment, when she was looking up at him, she looked so young. Even if she was sitting in front of him, completely naked. Oliver didn’t know what her life had been like, didn’t know what her story was. But he wanted to know, and if it meant they would keep this about sex for the time being . . . well, that worked. That was fine by him, in one of the world’s biggest understatements. 

But he knew he was going to want more. He already did. 

“It means . . .” he began, peppering soft kisses against her mouth, “that we hang out together. Go to the movies. Go see the Sox play. Have dinner. And afterwards . . . we get each other naked.” He looked at her, trying to read her expression, but her face was neutral. 

And that made him wonder if he was going too far. If he had just made himself vulnerable and she was going to tell him that she was good now and he could go and that was it.

Oliver took a step back, pulling his arms away from her. He suddenly wanted to have some clothes on for the rest of this discussion. He bent down to pull up his boxers and jeans, only to stop, his ass sticking out, when Felicity spoke. 

“Okay.”

XXX

So she might be ready to agree to date Oliver, in everything but name. Because what he described? That was dating. But he wasn’t saying the words, wasn’t saying anything that implied any kind of commitment. 

She should be relieved. Oliver wasn’t her type at all. He was some frat boy that she knew nothing about, other than his ass looked good in jeans and he had the talent to make her fly apart with just a kiss. He was a frat boy, for God’s sake. His first words to her had been an insincere apology followed by a comment about her ass!

But . . . that didn’t seem to be the real Oliver. Maybe the real Oliver was the guy who let her set the pace, the one who admitted he had kind of stalked her, the one who was so focused on her and not himself when they were being physical. She didn’t know. 

And now she had the chance to find out just who he was. And she wanted to take it. 

It was crazy. This could blow up in her face. It probably would. Because having sex with someone before you even found out their last name was ass-backwards, to say the least. And “dating” wasn’t exactly how she worked. She either had one night stands or she had boyfriends; if she liked someone enough to go out on a date with them, she usually wound up dating them for a while. So she didn’t know what Oliver was getting at with this arrangement.

Part of her wondered if he was just trying to have his cake and eat it, too. Have her be his something on the side--maybe he had a real girlfriend and just couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. He seemed way too good at hitting on random girls, based on how they met. 

_What about the way he touches you?_ her mind prodded. 

_How about the way he looks at you?_ her heart reminded her. 

Damn it, she was such a mess. She wasn’t like this before she met Oliver. She wasn’t confused and hesitant. She knew what she wanted and she went for it. But right now, she felt so inexperienced, like a girl with her first boyfriend. Not that Oliver was her boyfriend or anything. 

All she knew was that she wasn’t ready to have this be the last time she was with him. If this was the last time, it wasn’t nearly enough for her.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Felicity took a deep breath. “Okay.” 

He was in the process of pulling on his pants--something Felicity was definitely not in favor of--but he froze at her word. Then his head whipped around to look at her. “Okay?”

Felicity nodded. “Okay.” 

There was a split-second when his face had no expression, when his eyes were just blue. And then, he grinned widely, his whole face lighting up, and his eyes sparkled and oh holy shit, he had _dimples_! That was so not fair. 

“C’mere,” she muttered, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him in for a kiss. 

Oliver kissed her back eagerly, but then pulled away and drew his pants up. “We’re not doing this again here. I have a California King in my hotel room, one with two-thousand thread count sheets.” 

“Why are you in a hotel room? What happened to the frat house?” Felicity asked, sliding off the shelf and casually brushing her hand over her backside, hoping there weren’t dust bunnies clinging to her ass. 

“Oh. That.” 

His words made Felicity look up at him and arch an eyebrow, even as her stomach dropped. He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck sheepishly, the move making his muscles flex in a very nice way and okay, so she looked, but he was right there and they were ‘spending time together’ now.

“I was asked to leave BU, so that night at my frat, it was supposed to be my last night here. I was going to fly home the next day, but . . .” He let his words trail off as his eyes connected with hers. “But I couldn’t leave without seeing you again.” 

Felicity stared at Oliver. What--what was going on? First he acted like he wanted to have no-strings fun, and then he said he had tracked her down in spite of his plans to leave Boston? 

Just who was this man?

He seemed to sense where her mind was, because he leaned down and kissed her softly. “Stop thinking. Let’s go to my hotel room--someplace that’s a little more private--and we can talk. Just--just come with me, Felicity.” 

Something about his voice did things to her. Especially when he got soft like this. So she found herself nodding without really understanding why, looking up at him and wondering why she wasn’t more nervous. 

And then he smiled and took her hand and everything made sense in a weird way. 

XXX

After his second night with Felicity, Oliver again woke up in bed alone. 

But he wasn’t worried, because he could hear noises from the bathroom. Noises that sounded like the shower running and someone singing. 

With a grin, he tossed back the covers and got out of bed, still naked. He stretched and then walked towards the bathroom, feeling like he had hit the jackpot. 

Because Felicity had stayed. Because they had fully enjoyed the California King during rounds two and three. And because she hadn’t run away when he kept letting slip how really-serious this was for him. 

He thought it would scare her away, but he was discovering that Felicity Meghan Smoak was hard to scare. And that was a good thing, because he really liked Felicity Meghan Smoak and he wanted to know more about her than just her full name. 

Right now, though . . . he wanted to start round four. 

As quietly as he could, Oliver slipped into the bathroom. Felicity’s back was to him in the massive glass shower enclosure, wiggling a little as she danced to the music playing from the built-in speakers. It was some pop song, something that made him grin widely at the idea of Goth Felicity singing along with a Top 40 hit. 

Pulling open the shower door, he leaned in and raised his voice. “You better be careful or else they’ll make you hand in your Goth card.” 

“And who is this ‘they’ you’re talking about?” Felicity asked, looking back at him over her shoulder. Without the heavy eye makeup, her dark hair looked somewhat out of place around her pale face and bright blue eyes. But she was still hot. And beautiful.

Oliver shrugged and grinned at her, then stepped into the shower, pulling the door shut behind him. Felicity turned and wrapped her arms around him, drawing him down as he leaned in to kiss her. 

The impact of the hot water from the rainfall shower head, the loud beats of the poppy music--it all faded away as he kissed Felicity. His hands glided over her wet skin, finding the spots he already knew she liked being touched, while looking for ones that would get new reactions. 

She moaned against his lips and gripped his shoulders, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his waist. Oliver laughed a little, his hands flying up to cup her ass and hold her up. “A little warning next time?” 

“Nope,” Felicity said with a wide grin. “Gotta keep you on your toes.” 

He pressed her back against the tiles, her breath rushing out of her and her eyes going wide. “I’ll do the same for you,” he said before leaning in to suck on her neck. 

“Oliver,” she moaned, sinking her hands into his wet hair. “Oh, fuck, keep doing that.” 

Smirking a little, Oliver sucked harder, swirling his tongue against her skin. She let out a sound that was definitely a whimper, which made his dick get even harder. 

“God, don’t do that,” he said, lifting his head to speak directly into her ear. “I can’t fuck you in here.” 

“Why--why not?” she asked, her voice breathy as she pulled his head back to look at him. 

“No condom,” he said, leaning in to kiss her. 

Felicity kissed him back, her hands tightening in his hair. “Then let’s take care of each other,” she said against his lips. 

“Huh?” he said, his mind not exactly working at the sound of her husky voice. 

A bright smile lit up her face and she wiggled against him until she was standing in front of him. “Like this,” she said, taking his hand and moving it between her legs, as she wrapped her other hand around his cock. 

Oliver groaned loudly at the mix of sensations: his fingers touching her hot, slippery center, the breath catching in his lungs as she gently squeezed his dick, the look in her eyes--demanding and challenging and hopeful and excited--making him want to never leave this shower. 

The chances of this working out, of actually having a real relationship with Felicity . . . they weren’t great. He had a lousy track record, they still didn’t know much about each other despite all the talking they had done last night, and starting anything with sex was no guarantee of anything long-term. 

But God, he didn’t want to lose this. Didn’t want to give her up. 

There was still work to be done. He still wanted to dig up what she was keeping from him, still wanted to explore every inch of her body, still wanted to do simple things like walk down the street with her and know that she was with him. 

For now, though, he was okay with rubbing his thumb against her clit and sliding his fingers inside her, as her hand pumped his cock. 

“You feel so good in my hand,” she said softly, her eyes locked on his. “So hard . . .” 

Gazing deeply into her eyes, Oliver let himself get lost there. “You’re so wet,” he said, his voice so much deeper than normal. “All for me?” 

She moaned, her pretty lips parting. “Yes . . . Oliver . . .” 

“Felicity,” he said, right before he kissed her. Right before he sunk a third finger inside her, stretching her and swallowing her gasp. Groaning against her lips as her hand tightened almost painfully around him. Painful because it felt so damn good. 

Was it crazy to think that as long as they had this--as long as they had this epic, magical connection between them--they would work out? 

Oliver was pretty sure the answer was yes, but if there was one thing he really loved to do, it was to ignore what everyone told him and do what felt right. And he was pretty sure Felicity was rebellious like that, too.

So they would be crazy rebels and see how long this lasted. Oliver was ready for anything. 

Just so long as they were together.

End.


End file.
